Jar of Hearts
by Silverspoon
Summary: A face from the past leaves an insecure Dean wondering, just who was the first man to own Jo Harvelle's heart? Collab with WelshWitch1011. AU. Banner by Ashesatmidnight.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors : **Silverspoon & WelshWitch1011

**Fandom : **Supernatural

**Pairing : **Dean Winchester/ Jo Harvelle

**Rating : **T

**Chapter I**

'_**And who do you think you are  
Running 'round leaving scars  
Collecting your jar of hearts  
And tearing love apart  
You're gonna catch a cold  
From the ice inside your soul  
So don't come back for me  
Who do you think you are?'**_

_**Jar of Hearts – Christina Perri**_

Screaming was often a usual sound effect accompanying a hunt, but was seldom an indication that things were going well.

Hearing the fevered shrieking of an unseen woman, most clearly terrified and in some kind of jeopardy, Dean Winchester's heart rate picked up instinctually. Forest green orbs narrowed in concentration as his head whipped around and he attempted to pinpoint the exact direction from which the sound had emanated. The dense foliage and woodland surrounding the hunters did little to aid Dean in his task, and the oldest of the Winchester brothers barked a string of profanities as he took off in a random direction, simply hoping for the best.

His feet pounded against the broken twigs and leaves that littered the ground, scattering the debris into the paths of the two hunters who followed close behind.

A clearing lay only yards ahead and Dean turned as he heard his name being called, barely audible against the screams that dominated the forest's natural soundtrack.

A rifle was tossed his way, and he caught it with one hand before continuing on toward the source of the fray.

The unmistakable sound of a safety catch being released caught his attention, and he glanced to his side as his companions skidded to a halt there. Sam, carried on impossibly long legs, had drawn level with Dean with an ease he would have ordinarily found irritating. However, Jo hunched over just a little as she struggled to regulate her breathing from the extra exertion it had required to keep pace with the Winchesters.

"What the hell is that?" Dean demanded, squinting as he aimed his flashlight towards the snarling, feral features of the creature, which clasped a man in its talons as though he weighed no more than a ragdoll.

"Our wood nymph…" replied his brother Sam from his side, swallowing audibly as he too took in the crimson eyes set in the wide forehead that was creased in fury.

"That ain't no _Tinkerbell_," drawled Dean, momentarily taken aback as he watched the nymph proceed to swing her helpless captive into the trunk of the nearest tree. The man released a pained cry, which was all it took to spur the shocked hunters back into action. Sam raised his shotgun, his head cocked as he steadied his aim, whilst Dean withdrew the hunting knife he often tucked into the waistband of his jeans. The blade glinted in the moonlight that managed to permeate the thick tree branches, and a smile of heady anticipation coloured Dean's lips.

"When Disney get it wrong… they really get it wrong," Joanna Harvelle observed, her faint Southern drawl intensifying as she raised her voice above the clamour of the nymph's howling, and the still constant screams of the woman watching from her position on the ground.

"Then let's get this done before _Bambi_ shows up to the party," quipped Dean, his eyes alight with the mere suggestion of the impending kill. The couple shared a fleeting look that succeeded in curling the corners of Jo's lips upwards into a smile, whilst simultaneously sending a jolt of familiar electricity ricocheting through Dean's body. The connection between them was almost a palpable entity and, watching from the side lines, Sam cleared his throat, drawing their focus back to the matter at hand.

"Got it," Jo said with a single bob of her head, taking aim and then firing off two shots in succession that hit the creature in the centre of its bulbous forehead.

The three hunters simultaneously frowned as the nymph roared, and a thin trickle of black liquid began to seep from the wounds, yet it refused to loosen its hold on its victim.

"Okay, so how do we kill this thing?" Dean yelled, hoping that at some point Sam's research would have yielded the answer. However, his brother merely shrugged, watching as another three rounds from Jo's shotgun struck the creature's shoulder.

"Guys?" Jo shouted, pausing in her assault in order to reload. It took the brothers only a moment to decide that the best tactical response they could hope for would involve charging the creature with brute force.

Exchanging a glance, and with a curt nod of approval from Dean, the Winchesters ran towards the nymph, shoulders dropped and jaws squared in determination. The creature seemed momentarily taken aback and, hissing at the hunters through jagged teeth, finally flung her captive aside in favour of meeting the men head on. With arms outstretched, the nymph lunged forwards, but failed to note the long and wicked looking blade that Dean had withdrawn until he was almost upon her. The tip of the hunting knife sliced through the nymph's gossamer, white robes, and pierced the rotting, mottled skin of her abdomen with a squelch. Jo curled her lip back in disgust but, satisfied that Dean and Sam were capable of dealing with the nymph's wrath, she slung the strap of her shotgun over her shoulder and hurried to the side of the nymph's discarded prey, who was holding his head in both hands as he balanced against the trunk of a tree. The shrieking of the woman accompanying him had long ago drawn to an end and, as Jo frantically searched the clearing, she realised that this was because she had wasted little time in beating a retreat once the nymph had become distracted.

Tossing back her head, tangled ebony locks wild, the nymph placed one palm in the centre of each of the hunters' chests, and tossed them backwards with ease. Both men landed hard on the ground several feet away, the air having been expelled from their lungs upon impact.

Ascertaining that the loudly cursing prey was alive and mostly unharmed, Jo's head whipped around, her concerns now piqued by the sight of the Winchesters lying spread-eagle on the ground.

"Dean!" she yelled, her heart almost pounding out a rhythm at the back of her throat, until a groan of annoyance spilled from her boyfriend's lips, and he and Sam both lifted their heads.

Now feeling the pain of the four bullet wounds that riddled her body, the nymph disappeared hurriedly into the night, leaving nothing but a disgruntled scream of anger echoing in her wake.

"Can you move?" croaked Dean, glancing sideways at Sam, who lay beside him in a similar state of pained paralysis.

"I think…" Sam choked out with a pained wince, coughing before slowly rising to a sitting position.

"I'll be right back!" Jo informed the panting victim before rushing to Dean's side, and helping him to clamber onto unsteady feet.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he repeated, coughing as he tried to suck in a deep breath and the action jarred his aching ribs.

"Next time, we need a plan B," Sam stated, leaning over and gripping his knees as he attempted mostly in vein to suck in sweet mother oxygen.

"Next time we need a freakin' plan A," Dean countered, placing his hand over Jo's as she gripped his arm, concern etched across her features.

"How's our civilian?" Sam finally managed, skirting closer to his fellow hunters and directing a cursory glance at the man, who was now beginning to pick himself up with the disgruntled air of a tough guy that had just been handed the biggest ass-whooping of his life.

Sam could only hope that they would be able to keep explanations to a minimum, especially given the way his lungs ached and burned with every breath he drew. Having quickly realised that Dean would suggest a return to their motel in order to regroup, Sam had high hopes that a cold compress and a bucket of ice would be in his near future- mainly for the benefit of the wicked bruises he could feel blossoming on his torso.

"I'll be just… peachy… once my ass cheeks wake up…" the man declared in a tone that was somewhat coloured by embarrassment. Sam narrowed his eyes, shooting a look at Dean that clearly communicated that he would follow the older hunter's lead in regards to the story they chose to fill the victim's head with.

"Next time, buddy," Dean began, already having adopted his most authoritative stance and assuring smile, "you may want to think twice before you and the girlfriend take a midnight stroll through the woods when there's a six hundred pound grizzly on the lose."

"That wasn't no damned grizzly…" the man growled with surprising ferocity, dropping to his knees once more and appearing to forage through the leaves and bracken as though hunting for some misplaced article.

"No?" Dean queried, crossing his arms and cocking his head as he observed the stranger, attempting to gauge just how much of a threat to the investigation he may prove to be. Dean dearly hoped the guy was not a journalist, or some such other unsavoury parasite. They had encountered their fair share of trouble on what had promised to be straightforward hunts once a few amateur sleuths from the local rag had been added to the mix, and Dean wasn't certain that his current mood would dissuade him from putting the guy down there and then if he happened to produce a press ID.

"What do you think it was?" added Sam, adopting a similar stance to Dean, and striving to keep his tone even. The man finally straightened up with a quiet cry of triumph that apparently signified he had located his lost treasure. Sam frowned as he took a step towards a shaft of moonlight, and the object he gripped in his right hand was illuminated.

"Damned if I know," the man replied, finally grunting in acknowledgement as he slipped the knife he held into a sheath at his belt, "but it wasn't _Yogi_."

Jo had been too caught up assessing the extent of the dark bruising forming on Dean's cheekbone to take too much notice of the stranger, but her head turned slowly in his direction as he spoke.

The man stared at Jo in obvious shock, before his wide smile erupted, "Well, if it isn't Jo Harvelle. How's things, babydoll?"

Dean glanced curiously between the two, his curiosity prickled, and his proverbial hackles raised immediately.

"You two know each other?" Dean almost demanded, the arm he had loosely draped around Jo's waist now tightening considerably.

"Fine," Jo spat, a glimmer of unpleasant recognition present in her eyes. She regarded the man with undisguised derision, and demanded loudly, "How's the nose?!"

Appearing to deflect the question with little more than a shrug, the man straightened up to his full height and affixed the hunters with a toothy grin.

He stared contemplatively at the Winchesters, studying the subtle family resemblances, and rubbing the tip of his chin as he stated with a chuckle, "And I guess you must be the infamous Winchester brothers."

Forgoing all pleasantries, Dean cast a suspicious eye over the man, who had yet to introduce himself formally or otherwise. Noting how Jo's fingers seemed suddenly to almost grasp at the fabric of his t-shirt, Dean called out, "Who are you?"

"Of course… where the hell are my manners?" the man mused pleasantly enough, stepping forwards and extending his right hand to Sam, who both grasped and shook it on impulse. "Eric Nielson… fellow dedicated hunter."

Dean watched as his brother stepped back, and Eric approached with his hand offered. Ignoring the offending limb thrust at him, Dean drew Jo closer to his side, having interpreted the sour and mistrustful look upon her face quickly.

"Look, if you guys are hunting this thing too…" Eric began, un-affronted by Dean's hostility, "maybe we should team up… pool our resources so t-…"

Before the suggestion had fully left his lips, Jo shook her head, cutting in with a ring of finality to her voice, "We already are a team. We don't need anyone else."

"Aw, come on, don't be that way," Eric almost whined, his smile and bravado fading hand in hand. He glanced at each of the hunters in turn, his expression earnest as his gaze fell upon Jo, who shifted her weight from one foot to the other in apparent discomfort.

"So... you're knockin' boots with him now, huh?" Eric glanced between the couple, receiving a narrow eyed glare from both parties in response. "Always did have an eye for a hunter."

Jo sighed irritably, hauling her rifle further up onto her shoulder as she peered at Dean and Sam in turn. "We should get back to the motel and see if Bobby knows how to kill this thing before it kicks our asses again."

Dean nodded and Sam merely smiled politely at Eric as the small group began to head out of the clearing.

"Alright then," Eric held up his hands in defeat, wincing for effect as he glanced down at his bicep, where the creature had torn a gaping tear, "but could I trouble you for a couple of bandages? Maybe get this cleaned up a little?"

Jo appeared to mull over the request grudgingly, her jaw set as she stared at the injury and avoided catching Eric's gaze.

"Fine. Five minutes, we stitch you up and then you leave," she conceded, her resolve on the matter evident.

"Five minutes," Eric repeated, seeming somewhat more subdued than he had done upon making his introductions. "Then I'll be out of your hair for good."

With a sour smile, Jo tossed back, "I'm counting on it."

**x-x-x**

Dean watched as though he were in the midst of a stakeout as Jo doctored the deep gash that marred Eric's upper arm, her lips all the while set in a grim line of distaste. Whilst Dean maintained a respectable distance, knowing Jo would not appreciate him needlessly hovering, he could not bring himself to tear his gaze away. He trusted Jo implicitly, with everything from his life to his heart, but there was something about this hunter that set Dean's nerves on edge, and succeeded in sounding every internal alarm bell he possessed.

Jo worked in silence, but Dean could see Eric's lips moving at intervals, signifying that he at least was keen at striking up conversation. The way Jo moved was stilted and off, and even from his position across the motel room, Dean could see that the hand she was using to suture the wound was shaking.

"I'm going over there," Dean said quietly, moving to rise from his chair and letting out a growl as Sam forced him back against the cushions with one hand splayed square in the centre of his chest.

"The hell you are," argued Sam, shaking his head at Dean before returning to the open tome in his lap, "you think Jo would thank you for that? She can handle herself, and him."

"I don't like that guy, Sammy," Dean groused, rubbing the back of his neck as he glowered disdainfully in Eric's direction, "something about him just pisses me off."

Sam smirked and nodded in apparent agreement, "Yeah."

Inhaling quickly, Sam narrowed his eyes as if contemplating the situation.

"Or, you're jealous, because the guy dated Jo, back when you were too scared to do anything but stare at her ass and sing REO in the shower..."

"What?" Dean guffawed, shaking his head as Sam regarded him with obvious amusement, "Me? Jealous? Dude... seriously, I don't do the whole jealousy thing, okay? Jo and I, we're... we're just... and I know she... Shut up."

Holding up his hands, Sam chuckled. "Fine, forget I said anything."

Dean grumbled under his breath, watching Jo stiffen as Eric's hand landed on her wrist, and she swiped it away with an audible hiss of displeasure.

"He touches my girl and I'll break the guy's wrist."

Dean curled his upper lip in disgust and reached towards the copy of the TV guide that had been abandoned on the night stand. Rolling his eyes, Sam leant back in his seat and chuckled, wondering how long it would take for Dean to realise that the magazine he was attempting to distract himself with was in fact upside down.

Dean continued to watch in sullen silence as Jo finished up her neat row of stitches and began to tie off the thread.

"So, how long have you guys…" Eric began, a mildly suggestive smirk punctuating his query.

"None of your damned business," Jo snarled, not caring if she appeared openly hostile, or if Sam and Dean were able to detect as much in her reactions to Eric. His sudden, unexpected reappearance in her life had shaken Jo, stirring up a wealth of unpleasant memories and the emotions that went hand in hand.

"I was going to ask how long you've been huntin' together but…" Eric tailed off, both eyebrows raised as he withdrew his arm from Jo's lap and flexed his fingers experimentally. Quietly, he murmured, "Thanks."

"I'd like to say 'no problem' but we both know that would be a lie," Jo bit back, her hostility not dampened by Eric's gentle gratitude.

Eric sighed, appearing truly hurt by Jo's dismissive and cold demeanour. Almost in a whisper, he offered, "I miss you, Jo..."

Jo folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head as she observed Eric through narrowed eyes.

"Okay, so you're all patched up..." She gestured toward the door with a pointed nod.

"You know, I heard talk that the Winchesters were dragging some little girl around with 'em..." Eric watched Jo's face intently, almost daring her to rise to the bait.

"You done talking?" Jo's eyebrows rose impatiently, in a gesture so very similar to her mother that Eric almost shivered at the resemblance. Ellen Harvelle was not a woman he wished to encounter again in a hurry, especially given the nature of their last meeting, and the fact that he had been on the wrong end of the barrel of her shotgun.

"Fine," Eric stood, wincing as he raised his hands in a gesture of defeat, and the action tugged at the line of sutures, "just... just make sure he looks out for you, Joey."

"We look out for each other," Jo replied evenly, glancing across the room as Dean momentarily caught her gaze.

Eric shrugged on his jacket and laughed softly, "Yeah, well last I heard, your guy over there was losing it. You know what hunters are like, they talk... and the Winchesters are a pretty big topic of conversation."

He flashed Jo a mildly charming grin, holding her gaze with ill-concealed affection present in his blue eyes.

"I still think about it, y'know," he purred, extending one hand as though to caress the apple of her cheek with his fingers. He appeared to think better of the gesture at the last minute, dropping his hand to his side as though physically pained.

"You, me… the open road…"

**x-x-x**

_**Harvelle's Roadhouse, Nebraska**_

_**April 2007**_

_Furious with herself, and her own propensity for brooding on what could never be, Jo Harvelle swiped a rag across the counter of the bar and did her very best to disguise her mood from the roomful of customers. It had been three weeks since he had walked away from her. Well, technically, she had been the one walking away, stalking through the tall, dried grass as he gunned the engine of the Impala and sped off in the opposite direction in a cloud of dust that probably demonstrated his own frustration at how things had worked out. She had circled back around to the roadhouse once she was certain they had gone, retreating to her bedroom and the privacy of her angry tears. Three hours later, she had emerged, looked her mother in the eye, and then set about her next shift at the bar without a word. Ellen had not raised the Winchesters as a topic of conversation since, and Jo was at least mildly grateful for this. However, whether she chose to speak his name aloud, it was never far from the tip of her tongue, and Jo despised herself for such weakness. _

_Instead, she threw herself into cleaning the roadhouse until she had worked from top to bottom and back again. Ellen was fairly certain the place had never been more pristine, but she bit her tongue as she watched Jo wax the bar for the fourth day in a row. If her actions soothed her heartache just a little, then Ellen would not be the one to call Jo out on them. _

_Feeling the weight of a stranger's gaze upon her, Jo bristled as she stood up straight behind the bar, tossing the towel over her shoulder. A pair of crystalline blue eyes locked with hers, and she found herself suddenly rooted to the spot. The face of the handsome man seated in front of her creased into a smile, the likes of which instantly prompted an ache in her heart. Dismissing her maudlin thoughts, Jo managed a nod of acknowledgement at the unfamiliar patron._

_"Well now, this is about the cleanest bar I think I've ever seen," he declared with a chuckle, watching as Jo's cheeks blushed dusky pink, and she threw the towel underneath a shelf, hiding the incriminating evidence._

_Pausing to take a sip of his beer, the man sighed resolutely. _

_"He's an idiot."_

_Jo frowned, folding her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture as she replied a little too quickly, "Who's an idiot?" _

_Having been practically raised in a bar, Jo was certain she could gauge the direction the conversation was headed, but she was willing to play along for the time being at least._

"_Maybe I'm overstepping the mark," the guy began, toying with the label on his bottle where it had started to peel at the corner. "You just got that look, is all."_

"_That look?" Jo repeated, bristling as she addressed the hunter, who she was now certain she had never laid eyes on before. Since she was a little girl, Jo had made a point of memorising the faces of every hunter that set foot through the door, knowing that her first encounter with them may well prove to be the last. It seemed wrong to her in some way that the faces of such quietly important men and women could be forgotten, even after they had made the ultimate sacrifice for the world._

"_Y'know…" he drawled, pausing to gulp down the remnants of his beer and sighing as the cold nectar slipped easily down his throat, "like you just got the 'speech'."_

_He spoke the word with evident scorn, encompassing it in air quotes and then smiling awkwardly. At Jo's probing stare he added hastily, "It's not you, it's me… we're better off as friends… wrong place, wrong time."_

_Jo merely arched an eyebrow, busying herself with rearranging a line of clean shot glasses as she tried not to let his words rub salt into her still raw wound._

_"But..." he continued on, "I got just the thing to cure that."_

_"Oh, you do, huh?" Jo asked, finding herself smiling despite herself at his confidence._

_"Yep," he stated with a nod, reaching out and overturning two of the shot glasses before sliding them between he and Jo. "One drink..."_

_Jo laughed softly, reaching for a bottle of tequila as she held his gaze and filled both glasses._

_"And then what?" she coaxed, lifting the glass from the counter, but pausing before it pressed against her lips._

_"Then you tell me your name, I'll tell you mine, and we can work on how you can forget all about him. Beautiful face like yours... you need to be smiling, babydoll."_

_"Uh-huh," Jo rolled her eyes, sighing before she downed the shot and winced at the pleasant burn that trickled slowly into the pit of her stomach._

_"Eric Nielson," he offered, extending his hand toward the blonde, who cautiously shook it._

_"Jo Harvelle," she stated, still trying to determine if she liked the newcomer or not. There was something undeniably intriguing about him, and Jo could not help but find his easy arrogance amusing, and also a little appealing. She thought that perhaps he could push her buttons, just the same way a certain Winchester had managed, and so Jo lost herself in a line of shots that somehow occupied the hours until dawn. _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter II**_

"Guys…" Sam interjected, holding up one hand to demand silence in the motel room, even as he leaned forwards and began to twiddle with the knobs on a small police scanner nestled between his knees. Obediently, the other three hunters occupying the room fell into a hush and Sam placed his ear against the speaker, frowning as he struggled to decipher the message crackling through.

Dean and Eric glared at each other, both wearing expressions of equal parts jealousy and irritation. Dean stood from his seat on the edge of the bed and sidled over to Jo, trying not to make his actions seem in any way territorial.

"What is it, _Lassie_?" Dean smirked despite his distraction, watching as Sam pressed his ear almost to the speaker, his head moving twitching at every crackling syllable that eked through from the local police department radio.

Releasing a bored sigh in response to his sibling's teasing, Sam sat up straight and turned the volume of the radio down to nothing more than a low hiss.

"Looks like two park rangers have been attacked... on opposite sides of the forest," he revealed, watching as Dean nodded and ran his hands through his hair.

"So there's more than one of those things," he surmised, glancing down at his side as Jo took a step closer. She appeared to be trying to lean into him as inconspicuously as possible. His hand settled on her waist in response and he allowed his fingers to curve around her hip.

"You sure you boys don't need my help?" Eric pressed, glancing between the brothers for an answer, although his gaze settled firmly on Jo.

"It would make sense, Dean," Sam said quietly, avoiding his brother's gaze for fear of the openly hostile look he was certain Dean would be wearing.

"Not my call," growled Dean, directing a glance at Jo, who shifted her weight from one foot to the other and shrugged. Whilst she had no desire to work with Eric either in the near future or indeed, ever, she knew that she could not allow her own reservations to put them at a disadvantage to the monsters when people were dying.

"I guess we could use an extra body," Jo said, her voice barely above a whisper. Eric's features cracked with a wide, almost excited smile, which Dean intercepted with a sharp look.

"We take separate cars," Dean stated, leaving no room for argument, "and once we're done…"

"I hit the road, and you hope we never cross paths again," Eric finished, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall nonchalantly as he observed Dean.

"Exactly," Dean agreed, as Jo released a heavy hearted sigh and stalked across the room to retrieve her jacket from the bed.

Dean hooked his own jacket from the back of a nearby chair and quickly pulled it on as he regarded their new 'colleague'. Though he had no idea what had apparently unnerved his girlfriend, Jo wasn't one to spook easily, and her demeanour was unsettling to say the least. Yet Dean had to admit that though Eric appeared cocky, arrogant and insufferably confident, his own irritation lay solely in jealousy. The idea of any other guy with Jo made his blood run cold, and he knew the hunter probably didn't deserve the full force of the Winchester temper.

"Sammy, you wanna..." Dean began, blinking as Sam hoisted a bag of weaponry up onto his shoulder and nodded before Dean had had time to voice his suggestion.

"Yeah," Sam shot Jo a tight smile and gestured for Eric to head out the door.

"What's going on here, Jo?" Dean asked immediately as the door closed behind Sam with a soft click. His tone was gentle and patient, but there was an unsettling desperation in his eyes, and when his fingers closed around Jo's wrist he applied a little more pressure than was truly necessary.

Jo affixed a reassuring smile in place, and moved into Dean's arms uninvited. He smiled however at the pressure of her cheek against his chest, and ran his fingers through to the ends of her hair with what passed as a contented sigh escaping his lips.

"Nothing, really," Jo soothed, rubbing her fingertips in a small circle over Zeppelin crest in the centre of Dean's t-shirt.

"It didn't look like nothing," Dean answered, his brow furrowed as he held Jo out at arm's length and examined her expression with interest. She maintained an impressive poker face, managing to meet the intensity of Dean's gaze as she did so.

"I promise…" she began, momentarily worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, "everything is fine."

"Yeah? Because it looked to me like you saw a ghost out there… and not the 'easily-dealt-with-blow-'em-away-with-rock-salt' kind, either," quipped Dean, his eyes trained on Jo for even the slightest shift in mood or expression. "He seems like a decent enough guy…"

"Appearances can be deceiving," Jo interjected sharply, lowering her eyes to the stained carpet as she realised she had betrayed herself.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean pressed, gently tilting her chin with his fingertips so she was forced to meet his gaze, "Jo, did he hurt he?"

"No," Jo shook her head, curling her hand around his and smiling weakly as she pressed her cheek against his palm. His touch was reassuring, and Jo leant up and pressed a brief kiss against his lips to assure him that all was well.

"You sure about that?" Dean asked, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed her intently with an air of disbelief.

"Let's just get this over with, okay? We can talk about it later," she replied illusively, looping her arms around his neck.

"Jo, if that guy..." Dean began, swallowing against the wave of anger that rose up from his gut as he contemplated his own inferences.

Shaking her head slowly, Jo silenced him with a kiss. She managed to muster a mischievous grin as she whispered, "Just be glad it didn't work out, Dean-o… or you and I wouldn't be standing here right now... like this..."

With a thin smile, Dean replied, "I'll be glad when that guy is taillights on the horizon."

"Well then," Jo said softly, stealing another kiss and then drawing away to affix Dean with her best determined smile, "let's go bag us some monsters."

**x-x-x**

After ditching their cars at the side of the road, the four hunters had ventured into the forest, laden with weapons and each harbouring a sense of trepidation at what exactly awaited them. That there should be two of the creatures was an unexpected development to say the least, and one that left them all wondering what other potential surprises lay in store.

Sam and Eric took the lead, whilst Jo and Dean brought up the rear, the blonde staying close to her boyfriend's side in an uncharacteristic move. Usually, during a hunt, Jo preferred to stay close to Sam, knowing only too well that Dean wouldn't think twice before placing himself in the line of fire on her behalf – something she wished to avoid at all costs.

"I think we got something!" Sam called out suddenly, drawing to a halt as he spotted tracks in the dirt. Stooping down, he examined the footprints closely for a minute and then released a weary sigh.

"Two sets," Jo stated, planting her hands on her hips as she exhaled slowly and glanced out through the tangle of branches that hung down low throughout the forest.

"So we split up," Dean said, preparing to seize Jo's hand and lead her off toward the tracks veering left from the clearing.

"How about you and I head this way, Joey?" Eric suggested, remaining oblivious to the murderous glare he received from Dean, "for old time's sake, huh?"

"How about we don't?" Jo stepped away from the hunter, folding her arms across her chest as impatiently.

Dean glanced between the pair and then shrugged at Sam, who also appeared bemused by Jo's hostile behaviour.

Rolling his eyes at the puppy-dog look Eric adopted, Dean patted him heavily on the shoulder, "Alright sweet-cheeks, you and I will head this way... Sammy can go with Jo."

"Jo?" Sam smiled warmly at the hunter, falling into step beside her as she hurried away from the clearing. Suddenly halting in her tracks, Jo jogged back toward Eric and Dean, grabbing the latter by the arm and turning him to face her.

Leaning up to whisper in his ear, Jo pressed her palm to his cheek, "Be careful out there, okay?"

Her eyes widened pointedly as she drew back to regard him, and Dean nodded in understanding, snatching a kiss before he let go of her hand and she re-joined Sam.

Dean and Eric disappeared into the trees, the latter scouring the ground for tracks whilst the former maintained his own vigil of the trees with his shotgun perched high on his shoulder. Jo fell silent as she and Sam began to plough through the trees, she with her flashlight directed at the path, and Sam with his handgun brandished in readiness for the attack both hunters anticipated.

They walked in silence for ten minutes before Sam cleared his throat and jammed his free hand into his pocket.

"You hear anything?" he inquired, his voice soft and his eyes narrowed as he struggled to pick out even the slightest unusual sound in the darkness.

"Nothing but crickets," Jo answered in a whisper. She shot a brief glance at Sam, who was watching her intently. Sighing, she added, "Come on, Sam. Spit it out."

"What?" Sam asked, both eyebrows arched in surprise. He hastily shook his head as though trying to deny that he had been on the brink of questioning Jo about anything, much less her obviously tenuous relationship with the temporary addition to their team. With a smile, Jo punched him lightly on the top of his arm and rolled her eyes.

"You're as bad as your brother, you know that, right?"

Sam shot her a withering smile, and Jo bobbed her head in grudging agreement.

"Okay, maybe not as bad," she allowed, taking a moment to consider her boyfriend's almost compulsive need to act as her protector. Whilst Dean's concern and obvious devotion was touching, it could also prove wearing.

"Dean's crazy about you. He just wants to look out for you," Sam managed through the midst of amused chuckles.

Jo considered his words, smiling at their inference before abruptly sobering, "I know. But seriously Sam... Eric and I, it's not something I want to talk about."

**x-x-x**

It took all Dean had not to stalk ahead through the forest, randomly firing rounds into the trees in the vein hopes he may hit something otherworldly with buckshot, just to draw the whole unpleasant experience to a conclusion. Despite the fact that Eric had yet to do anything wrong, Dean was finding him an infuriating partner by presence alone. Therefore, he was extremely grateful for the uncomfortable silence that had hung over them since they had split from Sam and Jo in the clearing.

He maintained a hurried pace, elongating his strides purposefully and becoming irritated when the tracks they were following eventually petered out.

"Damn it!" Dean growled under his breath, sweeping the beam of his flashlight across the branches and foliage ahead. Finding nothing but leafy green shrubbery, Dean let out a sigh and leaned back against the trunk of a nearby tree.

"Bust," Eric declared, sliding his handgun into the holster at his side in order to crouch down to examine the last footprint more closely.

"Just… great…" Dean muttered, more to himself than his companion. However, Eric straightened up quickly, having found nothing of interest about the final print.

"Don't sweat it, we'll track this bitch down and I'll be a speck in the distance by morning," he soothed in a tone that was laden with sarcasm. Dean blinked in surprise, the corners of his mouth turning downwards as he affixed Eric with a cold stare.

"I just gotta ask, though," the other hunter began, running one hand through his blonde waves, "why do you hate me so much? We met like five minutes ago… and here you are acting like I shot your damn childhood dog."

"We never had a dog," Dean replied dismissively, shrugging as he contemplated how best to answer his new colleague's question. Whilst it was true he disliked the man greatly, he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

"She got to you too, huh?" Eric sighed, shaking his head wearily as he looked almost with pity at Dean. "Well, she's a flighty one, my Jo... so don't be surprised when..."

"_Your_ Jo?" Dean interjected askance, interrupting Eric as he felt his finger itching to brush the trigger of his rifle.

Eric held his hand up, bobbing his head by way of apology, "Look, just take my advice, buddy, don't get too caught up in that chick, okay? She's got all these crazy ideas and notions about hunting, and it's just not the kind of thing a woman needs to be concerning herself with."

He shot Dean a smug grin, which the older Winchester received with a grimace.

Before Dean could respond, Eric bit back a lewd smile and added, "Jo's a real pistol, she's got fire, and I like that about her... but strictly on a horizontal level, if you know what I'm saying."

"Hey dude, that's my freakin' girlfriend you're talking about," Dean managed to choke out through his fury and surprise, his eyes narrowed to slits as he watched Eric pace the area they had stopped in.

"Look Dean, you seem like a real nice guy," Eric continued, his eyes trained on the trees rather than Dean's face. "Jo… well, she…"

"Unless you want to be picking your pearly whites up off the floor, I'd choose your next words carefully," growled Dean, his fingers flexing around the barrel of his shotgun. His breathe was coming in sharp gasps, and he clenched his jaw in an effort to reign in his temper, which he knew could sometimes be his own undoing.

Eric shot him an odd look; one somewhere between sympathetic and amused. Bristling, Dean drew himself up to his full height, taking a few paces forwards to draw his eye line completely level with the other hunter's.

Automatically, Eric took a step back, his expression now uncertain as he watched Dean.

"Jo needs a firm hand, is all," he stated, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips as though he failed to comprehend Dean's hostility.

Dean's eyes widened in fury, as Eric's words prompted a sickening suspicion regarding Jo's current state of unease. The very idea that this guy had even considered raising a hand to Jo, _his_ Jo, was sure to be the straw to break the camel's proverbial back, and he felt his rage building further.

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" Dean took a step closer, eyes narrowed and unblinking, "if I find out you so much as looked at her the wrong way, I swear to God..."

He flicked the safety catch off of his rifle and glared murderously at Eric.

Before the man had a chance to reply, the sound of bracken breaking caught both their attentions and, in a split second, Dean had swung the barrel of the rifle at the source of the disturbance.

The harsh, nasal grunts of the creature gave away it's position, and Dean didn't hesitate before he took off running in that direction.

"I'll deal with you later," he called over his shoulder, not truly caring anymore if Eric followed or not. Muttering under his breath as he broke out into a sprint, Dean growled, "Asshat."

**x-x-x**

"I thought this was something you didn't want to talk about…" Sam began, his eyes impossibly wide as he watched Jo launch animatedly into her next character assassination of the man she had apparently dated for the better part of eight months.

"Well, maybe I changed my mind," Jo stated, a blush rising on her cheeks as she affixed Sam with a glare intended to be mildly threatening. "Talking is therapeutic, right?!"

At Sam's nod, Jo sucked in a deep breath and moved forwards along the winding, narrow path they had discovered.

"At first, he was totally charming… kind of like he was before," said Jo, her tone growing quieter now as she adopted some pretence of being devoted to the hunt. Sam nodded, then realising that Jo could not see him in the darkness, made a soft noise of affirmation in his throat.

"But you didn't fall for it?" he queried, knowing the headstrong and fiery younger Harvelle too well to ever think she would be effectively sweet talked.

Jo snorted, tossing her head as she replied, "Are you kidding? I totally bought the whole routine."

"But... I thought... I mean..." Sam began, trying and failing to voice his question.

Jo smiled and shrugged self-consciously, "Yeah, well... I guess at the beginning, he kind of reminded me of someone."

"Dean," Sam stated, having instantly picked up on the similarity between his brother and Eric from the very second the blonde hunter had flashed his buoyant and self-assured smile at his rescue party.

Jo nodded, laughing softly as she rolled her eyes and clutched the rifle tighter to her chest. Her embarrassment at having ever assumed Eric was in any way like her boyfriend was blatant. Though both men projected a somewhat cocky exterior, in temperament, they had turned out to be polar opposites.

"He's nothing like Dean," Jo said quietly, squinting through the darkness as she spied movement in the undergrowth.

Detecting the almost solemn tone her voice had adopted, Sam found his curiosity peaked. Jo had become almost like a sister to him, and he felt inclined to find out exactly what had transpired between the pair.

"What is he like?" Sam asked gently, watching Jo's expression for the smallest shift. Her features clouded, momentarily unreadable, before she heaved a sigh and met Sam's gaze directly. In her eyes, he could see plainly both shame and sorrow reflected.

"He's real nice at first," she answered, keeping an even tone, "he's considerate, chivalrous, funny… kind of guy you'd take home to Mom."

"And after that?" Sam pressed, touching Jo's elbow in a gesture of reassurance that brought a smile to her lips.

"He likes to be the one in control," Jo replied, gazing uneasily off into the trees, "and he doesn't care much how he goes about it."

**x-x-x**

_**Duluth, Minnesotta**_

_**December 2007**_

_Laying the grease encrusted paper bag down on the surface of her scuffed kitchen table, Jo approached the refrigerator and tugged the door open. Scouring the almost empty shelves for a couple of bottles of beer, Jo let out a pained sigh when she discovered nothing but a can of diet root beer and large bottle of mineral water. _

"_We're out of beer, sorry," she called out into the cramped lounge area, that housed only a second hand couch and a small TV on a metal stand. When she received no response, Jo picked up the bag and ventured out into the hallway. _

_Eric had made himself comfortable already, sprawled out across the overstuffed two seater with his boots still on, and the remote wedged in one hand. He barely shot Jo a glance as she drifted into the lounge and settled at his feet. _

"_That's ok," he answered finally, flashing her a grin as he added, "the 7/11 three blocks away is still open. If you go now, you'll be back before the movie starts."_

_Glancing out at the heavy snow storm currently raging outside, Jo instead perched herself on the arm of the couch._

_"You hear?" Eric checked, glancing up in apparent surprise when he noted that she had not yet headed toward the door._

_"I heard," Jo replied, pursing her lips and folding her arms across her chest._

_"You mad at me about something?" Eric inquired, frowning before sitting up and cursing under his breath as he accidentally knocked the remote onto the floor._

_Jo laughed, although without a trace of humour colouring her expression. _

_"If you want a woman who's gonna play the happy homemaker, sweetheart, you've got the wrong girl," she explained, "I'm not here to do your laundry, cook your meals, or pick up after you, and I'm sure as hell not gonna walk through a snow storm to get you beer."_

_"You got your monthly or something?" Eric shook his head, as if not understanding her issue with the list of tasks he had tried and failed to get her to do over the past few weeks. "Gees Joey… give a guy a break, huh? I just worked a job."_

"_I know," Jo bit back tartly, "I worked it with you, remember?"_

"_That what all this is about?" Eric asked, an apparently understanding expression dawning on his face. "Look, babydoll… if the jobs are too hard for you, I've told you that…"_

"_Too hard for me?" Jo demanded, her voice rising an octave now as her temper flared. She dug her fingernails into her palms as she clenched her fists, forcing herself to at least attempt to maintain an even tone. _

"_Out there…. It's not always the best place for a woman," Eric said patiently, his smile widening as he leaned forwards and gripped Jo's arms gently, "the occasional salt and burn… an interview or two… those are all great things to have you along for. But if the real hunts take too much out of you…"_

_Jo stood up abruptly, slapping his hands away from her arms and glowering at her boyfriend as though he had completely lost his mind. The issues with their relationship had begun around a month ago, when Eric had lost the lease on his apartment and Jo, rather than see her boyfriend homeless, had invited him to live in hers. The first week, the honeymoon period as Jo had heard it referred to, had been perfect; they had shared the chores and the cooking, and seemed to gravitate easily enough around each other. _

_However, once settled into his new surroundings, it became clear that Eric had very differing views to Jo on not only their domestic arrangements, but their future._

_"Is this about that dead guy?" Eric demanded, shaking his head irritably, "I heard you talking to your Mom. You still sweet on him or something?"_

_Jo closed her eyes momentarily, feeling unshed tears begin to prickle her eyelids as she recalled Ellen's tearful delivery of the news that had almost broken her only a few weeks before; Dean Winchester was dead._

_"We're not having this discussion," Jo stated, standing from the couch and walking over toward the kitchen. The pounding of the floor boards behind her alerted her to the fact that Eric had followed her hasty retreat._

_"I'm not done talking to you." Eric stalked toward her, his jaw tightening in anger as Jo batted his hand away from her arm._

_"Look, this obviously isn't working out," Jo stated, shaking her head ruefully as she glared up at his stony expression, "I think it's time you moved out."_

_"Jo..." Eric began, relenting as he saw the determination etched across her features, "you don't mean that, you're just upset... let's just watch the movie, and..."_

_Jo stared down at the ground, hesitating only momentarily before she replied, "I don't want to do this anymore."_

"_You don't want to do this anymore…" Eric repeated, his jaw tightening as he reached out and slid his fingers beneath Jo's chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. She slapped his hand away, eyes blazing, and planted both hands on her hips. _

"_No, I don't," she reiterated. Eric grimaced, his features contorting as though he had been slapped. _

"_You don't get to make that call, Joey," he retorted, his own defiant glare mirroring Jo's. _

"_This is my god-damn apartment," she began, her voice trembling in a demonstration of her fury, "I pay the rent and…"_

_"If I leave, I ain't coming back," Eric snarled, drawing up to his full height as he took a step closer toward her, "think about it carefully, Joey… you sure you want me to go?"_

_Jo glared up at him, feeling her heart begin to flutter wildly in her chest, and she found herself pulling away from the irate hunter._

_Gripping the edge of the kitchen counter behind her, Jo refused to back down, "You can leave now."_

_Eric appeared to be taken aback by her response, and the resolve etched on her features. Her jaw was set determinedly and her stance gave little room for argument._

_"Come on Joey, don't do this..." he pleaded, although his poorly concealed anger was detectable beneath his gentle facade._

_"I love you, you know I do..."_

_Taking a deep breath, Jo avoided his gaze, hoping the honesty in her tone would be enough to draw a conclusion to both the altercation, and their ill-fated relationship. _

_"But I don't love you."_

_Eric's face fell, and a spark ignited within his blue eyes. Jo chewed on her bottom lip, wrapping her arms around her middle as she reflected upon the confession she had just blurted out in such an uncharacteristic way. It was a strangely liberating experience, and she realised that she had been living a lie for too long, simply too afraid to continue alone to deny that things with Eric had run their natural course. _

_Expecting her now ex-boyfriend to simply turn tail and depart, Jo was taken aback when he crossed the room in less than three strides and grabbed her wrist in a painful hold. He yanked her arm upwards, and Jo's mouth fell open in surprise and disbelief._

"_What did you say to me?" Eric demanded, spittle flying from his lips as he pushed his face closer to Jo's. "Say it again… I dare you…"_

_Her jaw set in steely determination, despite the fact that her heart hammered against her ribcage as a result of this sudden and unexpected switch in Eric's demeanour, Jo wrenched her wrist free from his fingers._

"_I said, I don't love you," she hissed, refusing to be cowed as he towered over her, "this was a mistake… a bad one. Now get out of my apartment and don't bother…"_

_Jo froze as in the next instant, Eric's right hand balled into a fist, and he raised it at his side with the lightning quick reflexes that only the best of hunters could boast._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

Sam blinked and shook his head in shock, his mouth gaping open as he appeared suddenly lost for words.

"Does Dean know?" Sam checked, wincing as he already guessed the answer to his question; since Eric was still breathing, his sibling had obviously not been privy to this information.

"No," Jo replied hurriedly, eyes widening as she imagined the outcome of that conversation, "and he's not going to know, either... not until Eric's left town."

"You're trying to protect him?" Sam seemed surprised that Jo would consider Eric's safety after all that had transpired, but her impatient eye roll corrected his line of thinking.

"Dean?" she raised both eyebrows pointedly, emphasizing the older Winchester's name, "Yeah."

"Probably a good idea," Sam agreed with a smirk, both hunters suddenly pausing as a low, throaty growl reverberated through the night air. They barely had time to exchange a glance before the nymph burst through the branches to their left and leapt across Sam's path, slashing at his chest with talons that were inches long. Sam cried out and dodged the attack just in time, although the front of his shirt was shredded to near ribbons.

Hissing and spitting at the hunters, the nymph took off at break neck speed back into the trees. Slinging her rifle over her shoulder, Jo grabbed Sam's arm and gave chase, her sneakered feet pounding against the forest floor relentlessly. She was determined they would dispatch both creatures before the night was through, hopeful that by morning, Eric's name would be nothing but an unpleasant after taste in their mouths. Her dedication to the hunt shone through, and Jo was almost dragging a gasping Sam behind her by the time they reached a large, oval shaped clearing that was dominated in the centre by an enormous rock formation.

The nymph had disappeared from view but, as Jo squinted in the darkness, she thought she spotted a suspicious looking opening amongst the rocks. Nudging Sam gently in the ribs with her elbow, she gestured with a slight inclination of her head.

The sound of feet pounding against the ground caused both hunters to raise their weapons, and Jo's breath caught in her chest as she found the end of her rifle trained on Dean's face.

"Woah!" Dean shouted, holding up his free hand in surrender and clutching his gun in the other.

"You guys okay?" he checked, concerned by the sight of blood on Sam's shirt sleeve.

"It's just a scratch," Sam assured him, glaring at Eric, who sidled up behind Dean moments later.

"You wanna watch where you're pointing that thing, babydoll?" Eric crooned, retrieving a hunting knife from inside his boot as he gazed up into the mouth of the cave.

"I could shoot him and make it look like a hunting accident?" Sam offered, smiling good naturedly at Jo in an attempt to relieve her obvious anger.

"Dude ain't worth doing the time over, Sammy," Dean stated, curling his lip in disgust as he placed his hand against the small of Jo's back.

"Where did those things go?" Eric demanded, either not hearing or else choosing to ignore the exchange between the other hunters. He lifted his flashlight high above his head and approached the rock formation slowly. His footsteps were carefully measured, and he appeared to be holding his breath as he approached the side of the rock where the opening was located. However, he didn't notice the break and the black void beyond it, and it was as Jo opened her mouth to call out a warning that a hand complete with talons shot out of the gap to seize Eric by the collar.

The hunter let out a yell and fired off two rounds in close succession. The bullets whizzed up into the air, their final resting place unknown, and Jo wondered with a faintly smug grin if Eric had squeezed the trigger in fright. She certainly hoped so.

A second later, he was tossed writhing and yelling into the trees nearby, before the two nymphs emerged one after the other.

"So, what's the plan?" Jo asked, glancing back at both Sam and Dean as they wore similarly petulant expressions.

"Looks like our buddy Eric's got a handle on this, so... I say we head back to the motel, order a couple of pizzas..." Dean joked, suddenly sighing as he realised they would not be able to leave their annoying counterpart at the mercy of these creatures.

"Fine," he huffed, as Jo shot him a wry smile and shook her head in disapproval.

"Any idea how we kill these things, Sam?" Dean cast a sideways glance at his brother, but had already started striding toward the two nymphs, both of whom watched their prey approaching with a hungry glint in their beady, black eyes.

The nearest of the two let out a sound almost like a purr as Dean approached, her greying lips twisting into a smile that partially concealed her jagged teeth.

"We uhm… impale them," Sam said, sounding somewhat uncertain. Jo and Dean simultaneously shot him a look, which he deflected with a shrug.

"You don't sound certain there," Dean observed, his own tone nervous as he continued to set towards the nymphs, his shotgun readied.

"I er… well…" Sam stammered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and averting his gaze. He mumbled the final part of his sentence under his breath and, despite Dean straining to hear it, the words were lost beneath the growls and snarls of the monsters.

"Speak up, Sam!" Dean called out, side stepping deftly as the nymph on the right rushed him, her arms outstretched and her mouth wide open.

"I couldn't find anything in the books and since we were pressed for time I…" Sam paused, wincing as Dean punched the nymph square in the jaw with little effect, "I got the info off _NetHac_."

"What the hell is _NetHac_?" Dean demanded, shooting an irritated glance at Sam as he jabbed the butt of his shotgun into the abdomen of the second attacking nymph, who Jo had already shot twice to no avail.

"It's a game information site… kind of like _Wikipedia_…" Sam offered, his smile decidedly sheepish as both Jo and Dean paused to shoot him murderous looks.

"Okay, we're gonna talk about your internet habits later," Dean stated, stabbing a finger pointedly in Sam's direction, "soon as we stake Flora and Fauna."

Hauling her rifle strap up onto her shoulder, Jo bent down and retrieved a large stick from the forest floor. Slamming it repeatedly over her thigh until it eventually splintered in two, Jo tossed one half to Dean, who was still grappling with the more resilient of the wood nymphs. Spying Eric skulking out of the side of the clearing, Jo yelled across to him, ducking as Sam hurried past her toward the second creature.

"Hey, you goin' somewhere?" she demanded. Her mouth set into a grim line as Eric offered a mock salute before disappearing into the trees in what Jo could only describe as an anticlimactic end to his appearance.

"Sam?" she called out, throwing the second makeshift stake to him. Sam caught the sharp ended length of branch with a grateful nod of his head, and the three hunters moved with well-practiced ease, as if somehow anticipating each other's movements.

Rolling her eyes at Eric's behaviour, which she could only presume was more as a result of his contempt for them all as opposed to cowardice, Jo wasted no more time in sprinting toward the Winchesters.

Slinging her rifle round onto her back, Jo used the distraction of the nymph that Dean battled to her advantage. She hooked her arms quickly and carefully under the creature's arms, using her full weight to swing the shrieking and writhing faerie around so that Dean could get a clear shot at it's heart. Sensing that the end was potentially nigh, the nymph redoubled her efforts at escape, straining so much against her captor that there was an audible and sickening pop as Jo's shoulder protested.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Jo shoved the nymph at Dean with all her might, satisfied as the tip of the tree branch he held slid into her chest cavity like a knife into butter. The nymph let out a scream of unbridled fury, and utter agony, which it's sister attempted to respond to, only to find that Sam had shoved the remaining branch through her abdomen and up into her ribcage. The second of the nymphs was the first to fall, tumbling to the ground before melting away into a pile of ash that stood out against the various greens of the forest floor. A beat later, her sister joined her, spitting and hissing even as she disintegrated.

"Well… that was bracing," Sam declared, panting slightly from the exertion of finally stabbing the elusive and particularly virile creature. Dean failed to reply as he crossed the space towards Jo, who was holding her left shoulder with a grimace fixed firmly on her face.

Jo peered down at her shoulder analytically, already realising it was dislocated, and her breath caught in her chest as Dean placed a hand gently on her arm.

"Just do it," she directed, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth as Dean looked pleadingly at Sam and then back at his girlfriend, unwilling to be the one to cause her further pain.

"Jo, I..." he began hesitantly until Jo appeared to be losing patience.

"Dean!" she snapped, sucking in a deep breath and releasing it in a puff of air beneath a stifled cry. Frowning, and glancing at his brother first for moral support, Dean grasped Jo's arm with both hands, and quickly manipulated her shoulder back into place, his heart lurching as she cried out in response and there was another tell-tale pop.

The relief was almost instant, however, and Jo took a series of slow, steadying breaths as a wave of nausea rolled up from the pit of her stomach. Dean supported her against his chest, rubbing her back gently as she took a few minutes to compose herself.

"You okay?" he bent his head to catch her gaze and swept his thumb over her cheek. She smiled weakly in response and then managed a wry chuckle.

"Yeah," she nodded, rolling her shoulder backwards and forwards and wincing at the dull ache that radiated from the joint, "thanks."

She closed her eyes as Dean pressed a tender kiss against her forehead and held her closer, until the conspicuous absence of their new colleague suddenly caught his attention.

"Where'd our buddy Eric go?" Dean demanded with an obvious sneer, his upper lip peeling back from the gum as he spat the name. Sam glanced at Jo, having been too involved in the fray to have noticed the other hunter disappear.

"He turned tail and ran right when things got a little ugly," replied Jo with a roll of her eyes and a faintly venomous tone. Dean snorted and Sam simply shook his head in a combination of shock and surprise- he had never once known another hunter to abandon people in the midst of a fight, and the idea that there may be those out there who would alarmed him greatly.

"Maybe he figured we could handle it," Sam suggested, his tone mildly hopeful.

"Or maybe the guy's just a giant douche," Dean finished, pausing to retrieve his fallen knife from the ground, before clapping his brother on the back with one hand. "Is what it is, Sammy."

"Dean, you don't..." Sam began to argue, smiling and rolling his eyes as Dean gently led Jo by the hand and began walking toward the wilderness trail.

"If it quacks like a duck..." Dean answered with a shrug, obviously long convinced of Eric's unsavoury nature.

Slinging his shotgun up onto his shoulder, Sam walked beside the couple. Despite the obvious discomfort Jo was in, her mood had lightened considerably. Sam knew it was probably little to do with the conclusion of the hunt, and more to do with her ex's rapid departure. He wondered just how much of the saga Dean had been privy to; the fact that Eric had escaped unharmed led him to believe the answer was 'very little'.

"So, you wanna order a pizza? Grab a couple of beers?" Dean suggested, inhaling the warm, balmy night air with a wide smile in place as the Impala came into view.

"Sure," Jo agreed, now feeling her previously pensive mood give way to something that felt very much like contentment.

"Sam?" Dean queried, shooting his brother a smile. Pausing for a moment to debate the offer, Sam shook his head.

"Nah, you two enjoy your evening," he said, watching as his brother opened the front passenger side door for Jo, who slid into the car after planting a soft kiss on her boyfriend's cheek.

"Plenty of room," Dean assured, closing the door after Jo and arching an eyebrow at Sam, who jammed his hands further into his pocket and shook his head.

"It's fine… got a hot date with _World Of Warcraft_ anyway," Sam explained, mustering an enthusiastic smile that Dean met with a quirk of his brow.

Shaking his head and chuckling softly, Dean accused, "Geek."

**x-x-x**

Jo leaned back against the headboard, sighing and resting both hands on her now full stomach. She giggled as she heard the distinct sound of Dean slipping a quarter into the 'magic fingers' slot at the side of the bed, before throwing himself down on the mattress beside Jo just in time to enjoy the gentle, rhythmic vibrations.

"That feels so good," Jo enthused, closing her eyes as she scooted further down the pillow and allowed the soothing motion to ebb through her back and shoulders.

"Preaching to the choir, sweetheart," Dean readily agreed. The sigh he emitted caused Jo to crane her neck, and she eyed him uncertainly.

Dean felt her gaze rest upon him, and he licked his lips nervously as though contemplating his words carefully.

"What?" Jo queried, scooting across the small divide between them as she rested her head on the pillow beside his.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean began hesitantly, turning to face her so the tips of their noses almost brushed.

Jo smiled weakly, dipping her gaze to his chest, and the faded rock band insignia on his t-shirt. The fact that she could sense the impending topic of conversation did nothing to dampen her trepidation but, understanding Dean's need for closure, Jo nodded her head.

"You can ask me anything," she replied, her throat constricting a little as she was overcome with a sudden and intense feeling of vulnerability. Although she was comfortable in Dean's presence, and was secure in the knowledge that he would always keep her counsel, Jo could not help the jolt of fear that shot through her at the prospect of discussing one of what she considered to be her less fine hours.

"You know that," she added quietly, consenting to smile as Dean brushed a kiss against the tip of her nose.

"I just want you to be comfortable," Dean stated, biting his bottom lip as he watched Jo bob her head in a manner that suggested she was anything but comfortable with the current line of questioning. "We don't…"

"It's ok, really," Jo said, her tone firm and one eyebrow arched to demonstrate her point.

Rolling onto his side, Dean placed his hand on her hip, curving his fingers around her slim waist. "He seemed pretty caught up on you," he stated, smiling wryly as he added, "not that I blame the guy..."

Jo reached out a hand toward his cheek and brushed her thumb over his skin. Dean remained silent, hoping for some form of closure on the subject and yet understanding if she wished for elements of her past to remain unknown. Certainly there were parts of his own dating history that he was less than keen to share, but Jo had known him long enough to already be privy to the uglier aspects of his past.

But things were different now; Dean was a different man, and for the first time in his life, he was completely in love, as terrifying as that prospect had first been.

"Eric's... " Jo began, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she pondered on how to describe her former boyfriend.

"A total dick?" Dean offered with a grin, finding himself silenced as Jo slid her palm down his cheek and pressed a finger to his lips.

"You wanna hear this or not?" she arched a blonde eyebrow, smiling as she received a solemn nod in response. She continued undeterred, "Eric is a charmer. Usually it takes more than that to impress me but… well, I met him after Duluth and I guess I wasn't quite as wise and grown up as I wanted to think."

"You don't say?" Dean exclaimed in mock shock, laughing as Jo swatted at him with an only half serious growl.

"Shut it, Winchester," she ordered, flicking her ponytail into his face and grinning.

As Dean held up his hands in surrender, Jo settled into the crook of his arm and continued, "I met him at the Roadhouse and we started hunting together for a little while. He thought things were getting serious but… I dunno… there was always something… 'off' to me, even when things were mostly good."

"And..." Jo added snootily, "he kind of reminded me of you, actually!"

"Me?" Dean blanched, grimacing as he considered the prospect of there being even a slight resemblance between himself and Eric Niellsen.

"Oh come on," Jo guffawed, amused by the indignant expression on his face, "the cocksure smile? That arrogant swagger?"

Dean shrugged, shooting her one of the aforementioned smiles, "I think I'm adorable."

Jo laughed and snuggled further into his arms, and she began smoothing her palm over the fabric of his shirt as she let her head fall against his chest.

"So... what happened? Why'd you guys break up?" Dean asked. Jo felt him tense beneath her, and she ghosted her lips across his jaw as his hold on her tightened in preparation for her confession.

"We lived together for a little while," she said somewhat hesitantly, watching Dean carefully for a reaction. When she received none, she continued, "I guess that's when things really started to get weird."

"Weird how?" Dean demanded, over eager and thus not bothering to wait for an explanation to the statement Jo had already made. She cocked her head in his direction, a smile twitching at the corners of her lips. Dean cleared his throat and averted his gaze by way of silent apology, and as a signal that he would allow her to proceed uninterrupted.

"He started to be mean, I guess," she stated slowly, picking her way through her words with great care. "He made it clear what he thought a woman's place was and, well, I've never fit with that kind of ideal."

Dean let out a snort and shook his head. He said with evident conviction, "That's not a bad thing."

"Well... he's not you," Jo said quietly, enjoying the sense of comfort and security his embrace offered. Dean rubbed her back reassuringly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Then one day, we had this huge fight and I asked him to leave," she relayed, taking a calming, measured breath as she added, "he got really mad, and... he was gonna hit me, so..."

Dean blinked, carefully manoeuvring her from his chest so he could sit up, "He _what_?"

The anger was evident in his tone, and a surge of homicidal intent overcame him, twisting his usually soft features into a snarl.

"Dean," Jo laughed softly, pressing her palm to the centre of his chest as she tried to halt his movement, "I broke his nose..."

She shrugged unapologetically as she added with a mischievous smirk, "You remember how we met, right?"

Dean nodded, wincing as he recalled the heavy handed blow she had dealt him that had left him seeing more than his share of stars. He settled back against the headboard, realising only now that the quarter had run out and the gentle vibrations had ceased. However, instead of foraging for another amongst the shrapnel in his pocket, Dean remained where he was, holding Jo close to his chest.

"You know I would never…" he began, his frown still in place.

"Dean, you don't even have to say it," interjected Jo, shaking her head to demonstrate her point, "I know. You and Eric are polar opposites. That's why I'm still here."

"What happened then?" Dean pressed gently, smoothing one hand across the back of Jo's head. She frowned, although Dean suspected the action was more at the memory than the question.

"I went back home not too long after," she answered, her lips pursing as she continued, "Eric kept calling, demanding to talk to me. Mom always denied I was there but I guess Eric saw through her. She was mad as hell when she heard… then he turned up at the roadhouse one day, drunk off his ass, and hollering for me to get out to him."

"I'll bet Ellen loved that," Dean snorted, imagining the fury the small whirlwind of a woman could whip herself into where the safety of her only child was concerned.

Jo quirked a smile as she replied, "He may have met the barrel of her shotgun at close range. She ran him off, told him she'd mount his head behind the bar if he ever showed his face on her land again…. I think she may have been serious."

Dean let out a loud belly laugh, his amusement peaked by the images that Jo's confession prompted.

She sobered somewhat as she added, "Right after that, we started out hunting together. Mom said she finally realised there were worse things in the world than the monsters, and she thought it was time she taught me to take care of myself, since she wouldn't always be there to protect me."

There was a moment of silence, during which Dean continued to shift in discomfort on the bed, before a final probing glance from Jo prompted him to air the thoughts plaguing his mind.

"Did… did you love him?" he asked quietly, averting his gaze to the comforter, fearful that he would potentially give away his thoughts on the matter. Jo remained unspeaking and unmoving, simply circling her index finger around the back of Dean's hand.

Taking a deep breath, she began, "I thought I did… for a long time, I thought I did."

"There's a 'but' in there, right?" he asked hopefully, trying to mask his discomfort with a wavering smile.

Jo peered up at him, her voice earnest as she spoke, "But... I know now that... that what we have is the real deal. I love you. Nothing else could come close to this. Eric wasn't the right guy for me, because..."

"I am," Dean stated definitely, his eyes boring intently into hers to convey the certainty in his words.

Jo nodded wordlessly as his lips brushed hers, and he kissed her until her heart began to hammer in her chest and she wound her arms tightly around his neck.

"You've always been my guy, Dean," she confessed almost shyly, rolling her eyes at the slightly smug grin that tugged at his lips, "as infuriating as you can be sometimes."

"Shhhh," he shook his head, chuckling as he rolled her beneath him and began dragging languid kisses down her neck.

"Can I stop talking about my feelings now, princess?" Jo asked hopefully, biting her bottom lip and grasping the fabric of his shirt as his tongue flicked teasingly against her pulse point.

"Uh-huh," he murmured, suddenly lifting his head and concealing a grin as he asked, "hey sweetheart, you wanna go make me a sandwich?"

"Depends," Jo answered, her smile sweet as she added, "you want me to kick your ass before or after?"

Laughing, Dean lowered his face towards Jo's so that their foreheads were touching, and her breath tickled his cheek. He peered into the depths of her eyes intently for a moment, before opening his mouth to speak.

"That's what I love about you," he whispered finally, the sincerity taking Jo aback somewhat. "You got it all, Jo… beauty, brains, spirit… and the biggest heart."

"Gees Winchester, if I'd have known all it would take to make you go all chick flick was to turn up an old boyfriend, I'd have done it months ago," Jo teased gently, swallowing hard as Dean continued to stare at her.

"I wouldn't change a thing," Dean insisted, caressing Jo's cheek with the back of his hand and beaming as she closed her eyes in response to his touch.

Suddenly craning her neck, Jo stole a glance at the small metallic box attached to the nightstand. "Magic fingers has stopped..."

Sweeping his eyes over her in a thoroughly suggestive manner, Dean shrugged and lowered his lips to hers. He paused suddenly, extracting a frustrated groan from Jo, who was entirely done with conversation.

"Don't worry about it, darlin'... these magic fingers are just getting started."

Jo giggled merrily, brown eyes narrowed in playful disdain, "Lame. So lame."

Dean arched an eyebrow and shook his head dismissively.

"We're done talking," he stated, the rest of his sentence dying on his lips as Jo sighed impatiently and grasped the neck of his shirt.

"Finally," she breathed, mirroring his smile in the few remaining seconds before their lips met.

**x-x-x**

Stirring the second sugar into his mug of black coffee, Eric let out a sigh. The diner was crowded and the bustle and chatter did little to help his sour mood. He would never have anticipated the sting that would result from seeing Jo once again. He had presumed that ever since she had shattered his nose with a well-placed fist, any feelings he may have harboured for the blonde hunter would have waned.

Eric raised the mug to his lips, half smiling as he took a sip of the cheap and nasty tasting liquid.

The dramatic yet heartfelt sigh of a young waitress caught his attention, and he paused to slowly swallow as his eyes skimmed the features of the sullen blonde. Bunching up the cleaning cloth in her hand, the young woman tossed it haphazardly under the counter. Her blue eyes were downcast, although Eric could already see that they were usually wide and expressive, and the tip of her nose was delicately upturned.

Eric bent his head in order to read the gold name badge pinned to her apron, summoning his patented brand of charm as he declared, "Well now... Christie, that's a big sigh for such a pretty lady."

Christie glared back at him with apparent disdain, although the fleeting smile that twitched at her lips betrayed her. Interest piqued, Eric lowered his mug to the table.

"Uh-huh," she replied, folding her arms across her chest as she tilted her head back and eyed her customer warily.

Eric smiled, taking another sip of coffee before he announced, "He's an idiot."

Christie's eyes narrowed, but her curiosity was obviously growing, "Alright, I'll bite. Who's an idiot?"

Eric shrugged in a very noncommittal manner, "The guy you were thinkin' of right there."

The waitress nodded, her smile widening as she responded, "Won't disagree with you there. Listen, you're not a friend of his are you, because I've told Jimmy, I don't want to talk to him, and I meant it, 'kay?"

"Well, I don't know this Jimmy, but... I reckon you should talk to me. I'm a pretty good listener," Eric coaxed, flashing his latest victim a wide smile that displayed a row of perfectly white teeth.

"Oh, you are, huh?" Christie giggled, glancing up momentarily at the clock on the diner wall before she turned back to her customer.

"What time do you get off?" Eric asked, realising from the grin on the young woman's face that he had managed to successfully draw her in. He was hardly surprised since he had been delivering such faultless performances for over a decade.

"Eight thirty," she said, circling her fingertip over the counter top as she peered up at him from behind a fan of thick lashes.

"How about I take you for a drink, and you can tell me all about it?"

Eric caged a triumphant smirk as the waitress bobbed her head and then headed over to dutifully refill coffee cups at the other side of the diner, a new bounce to her step.

Lifting the menu from the table, Eric began to examine it, searching in earnest for something that sounded even half palatable. The act of ordering would allow him to stick around for longer and, perhaps if he opted for dessert too, he would be able to draw his visit out until Christie's shift ended. Spirits considerably brightened, Eric began to hum along softly to the song filtering into the diner through a set of speakers affixed to the walls.

The day was beginning to look up, and Joanna Harvelle was one name that he would not look back upon again in a hurry. For Eric, there were no real scars in matters of the heart, just flesh wounds that healed easily once the balm of some other pretty face in some other no-name town had been applied. Leaning back in the booth, Eric flagged down a waitress, content to perhaps stay awhile longer than any hunter, or any serial heartbreaker, really should.

**Author's Note – This was a piece we co-wrote for a Fandom For Children compilation. In accordance with the organiser's wishes, we've been sitting on it for a little while. We felt now was the time to post to thank you all for your immense patience whilst waiting for updates on all our solo and joint fics. 2012 has been a very busy year for us so far, but we are pleased to announce that the new baby Spoon arrived on 18****th**** June 2012 after a long spell of ill health. His name is Samson, and he is deliciously squishy. Please also congratulate Welsh on her brand new job and impending move! We'll be back really soon with an update to all our fics. **


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